Page 50 of Having Henley
I hook the toe of my boot around the frame of the creeper she’s on and pull Tess from under the Chevy. I finally look down at her. “Take the rest of the afternoon off, Tess.”
She stands before dividing a look between me and Henley who notices us looking at her through the window like she’s an exhibit at the zoo. “Was it her husband?”
I tear my gaze from Henley and fix it on Tess.
“What?”
“Little Orphan Annie in there—” Tess tips her chin in Henley’s direction. “Was it her husband who wrecked that pretty face of yours?”
“He’s not her husband yet,” I say, way more defensive than I have a right to be. “And no. She did it.”
Tess’s sharp hazel eyes go wide. “The hell you say,” she says before letting out a sharp, one note laugh. “That lady hit you?”
“See you tomorrow, Tess,” I say, taking the socket wrench out of her hand before pulling her coveralls open to reveal her usual tank top and jeans underneath.
“You’re usually smarter than this, Con,” she tells me, stepping out of them while craning her neck so she can see into the office over my shoulder. “I’ve never known you to bring your work home with you.”
“Haha,” I say, stooping over to pick up her discarded coveralls. “Work home with me… I get it.” I wad them into a ball and throw them in the corner with the rest of them. “It’s funny because I’m a whore, right?”
My tone must’ve been sharper than I thought because Tess stops in her tracks. “That’s not what I mean,” she says even though we both know it’s exactly what she meant.
“It’s fine,” I tell her, even though it doesn’t feel fine. It feels like shit. I take a quick look through the office window. Henley’s standing now, watching our exchange. “Tomorrow morning, okay?” I smile at Tess, trying to reassure her.
“Okay,” she says, casting another, decidedly more wary look over my shoulder before pressing her lips to my cheek in a very un-Tesslike move that was half apology, half warning to the woman standing behind us. “See you tomorrow.”
As soon as she’s gone, I climb onto the creeper and wheel myself under the Chevy to finish the oil change Tess started. About five minutes into it, I hear the click of Henley’s heels coming toward me.
“You didn’t tell Tess who you are either, I take it?” I say as soon as the clicking stops.
“No,” she says over the whisper of silk like she’s nervous and fidgeting. “I have the feeling you don’t want people to know.” She sounds hurt by it, and I’m glad. I’m glad she knows what it’s like to be kept a secret. How shitty it feels.
“Do you live here?” she says, making an awkward attempt at small talk.
“Yup,” I say, thinking about my cramped apartment above my equally cramped office.
“Do you work for Tess’s dad?” she says, and even though I have the feeling she already knows the answer, I play along—because really, I don’t want to have this conversation any more than she does.
“I bought the place a few years back,” I say, fitting the socket wrench over the lug nut. “Tess works for me.”
“That must be hard for her,” Henley says. “I know she always figured this place would be hers someday.”
Hard for Tess. It’d devastated her, although she never said a word about it beyond a tight smile when I made the offer and a terse, I’m glad it’s you. Remembering it makes me feel bad. Like I stole something from her. I talk shit about Cap’n and his reluctance to take the money my dad gave him but to be honest, I know exactly how he feels.
“Look, I’ll cast a few lines,” I say without looking in her direction. “There’re only a few bars left in the neighborhood that still let him belly up so finding your old man shouldn’t be too hard.” Now I’m being an asshole on purpose, trying to make her feel bad by reminding her that her father is a lowlife drunk, but I can’t help it. I want her to feel as shitty about herself as I do.
“That’s not why I’m here,” she says it quietly, and I finally look over to see a pair of nude pumps about six inches from my face. I can see a light smattering of freckles trail along her ankle bone. They’re faint but not as faint as the ones on her face. The contrast makes me wonder what she did to herself to get rid of them.
Her freckles. Her nose. Her teeth. Her hair. Nothing is the same. None of it is her. It should make it easier for me to stay away from her. Keep her away from me. Instead, I find myself inviting her in.
“Okay, I’ll bite,” I say while I pull the lid to the oil pan and set it aside. “Why are you here?
“I’d like to apologize.”
“You already did that,” I tell her even though I feel like I’m the one who should be apologizing to her.
“I’d like to do it again.” She sighs quietly. “And I’d like to explain… about last night.”
“There’s nothing to explain,” I tell her, trying to let us both off the hook. “We both had a good time so let’s just leave it at that, okay?”
